Chriscer The First
by BookWorm210
Summary: Chriscer has always been an unusual badger. Ever since he was little, he has seen visions of the future, and felt the call of a mountain. When he receives a vision of Murk, leader of the True-Kill, journeying to the mountain, Chriscer travels across Mossflower to the Western Shore, where he battles Murk for the mountain and fights to become the first Badger Lord.
1. Chapter 1

"What story are you going to tell us tonight, Lord Bren?" Old Sargent Everwithe inquired as he bustled into the newest Badger Lord's bedroom, carrying a tray filled with a hot bowl of soup, several raspberry scones, and a tankard of October Ale. Bren had arrived at the great mountain of Salamandastron merely three seasons ago, and had already proven himself to be a strong leader with the wisdom of all the past Badger Lords who had protected the shores of Mossflower before him.

"A story that should've been told hundreds of seasons ago," Bren answered, gratefully taking the bowl from his friend and sipping it. Everwithe was used to Bren's vague answers, and didn't question him further. "It took me a long time to decipher the meanings hidden behind the paintings and carvings on the walls in my Forge Room, but I finally did so and found the true history of our great mountain. I've uncovered the secrets and the forgotten tales."

The young Badger often responded to questions in a mysterious way to intrigue the hares, which the leverets especially enjoyed. The hares at Salamandastron greatly admired him, and when he told stories, they would hang on to his every word.

"Well, everybeast is excited," Everwithe said. "And the mess hall was quite a jolly big wreck when I left it."

"And you wonder why I prefer to eat in here," Bren replied with a chuckle, envisioning the scene in his head as he finished the soup and grabbed one of the scones.

Once he finished his meal the tall badger stood up, fished around his simple room for a moment, and then returned to Everwithe holding a long scroll in his massive paws. Together the two friends strolled to the mess hall. When they arrived, every hare in the huge room, nearly two hundred in total, glanced Bren's way and became silent.

"I have a long and important story to tell you all tonight," announced the huge Badger. "One that starts so far back in the mists of time that none have heard the full story. Until now." His eyes roved throughout the room as he continued. "This is a story that I'm sure each of you will understand as one of incredible importance to the history of our great mountain. And that of Mossflower, no less." After a long pause, Bren unfolded the scroll and sat down in between two leverets. "This is the story of Chriscer the Strange, the first Badger to feel the call of the mountain. He was the very first Badger Lord."

* * *

When Mossflower was young, far, far back in the mists of time, there lived a badger. He was known to the rest of his kin as a bizarre badger. His name was Chriscer, and ever since he was little, he had constantly seen visions of strange creatures, lands, and buildings. One of the most common visions he would see was of a warrior mouse dressed in battle armor with a magnificent sword, one that could only be forged by a badger, for badgers were renowned for their incredible talent at forging weapons and armor. Chriscer would also see visions of a red sandstone Abbey with peaceful, hard-working creatures living inside it, and evil, selfish creatures wandering Mossflower, destroying and wrecking homes and creatures, and badgers that Chriscer felt an instant kinship to. They were like him; strange, powerful, and could see glimpses of the past and future. But the most common vision he would see was of a fiery mountain standing strong by the Western shore, calling and beckoning him to it, and Chriscer would be filled with a longing and a strong urge to travel to that mountain. He would see these visions in the day and at night, every single day. And little did he know the important role he had to play for the protection of all living in Mossflower.

One early summer day Chriscer had an especially vivid vision of the mountain. He had never felt the pull to it so strongly, and he yearned to be there. As always, the image was planted in his mind and he could see every slight detail clearly. And then the vision changed for the worse. One moment Chriscer felt calm and peaceful, and the next he felt a horrid rage that made his vision darken and turn crimson. In his mind, he could see a large ship sailing in the ocean, filled with dozens of ferrets and weasels, and at least twice that many giant rats. The ship whizzed through the ocean, its two black and red striped sails swaying in the ocean breeze. Chriscer noticed one certain rat, who was bigger than the rest and stood next to the helm. He waved his double-edged sword around at the others, snarling commands and threats. The rat wore nothing but a simple gray tunic with a large belt around his middle, with several other kinds of weapons attached to it. All the other creatures acted afraid of the rat, and obeyed his orders immediately, so Chriscer knew instantly that it was the leader. Chriscer directed his focus towards the horizon, where the ship was headed. He noticed what seemed to be a low gray cloud in the distance, but when they came closer he realized it was a shore with a mighty mountain standing tall, like a silent protector of Mossflower. Chriscer quickly recognized it as the very same mountain from his dreams and visions. Knowing what the rat and his crew were attempting to do made him roar out in anger, and his rage became so strong that his vision in his mind's eye became clouded with red. But the vision ended suddenly and the red cleared from his eyes.

His friend, a hare called Arther, came bumbling up to him. "I say, what's wrong, Chriscer? You seemed quite angry a moment ago."

"I'm fine, Arther," Chriscer replied, and then decided to swiftly explain his latest vision. When he finished, Arther's nose twitched like it did whenever he was trying not to laugh.

"You're actually serious?" Arther asked. "It was just your silly imagination. And even if it is real, it doesn't jolly well matter. I hate to say this, pal, but it's not your mountain, and you don't even know where it jolly well is."

An idea flashed through Chriscer's mind. It was risky, and potentially dangerous, but he somehow knew that the mountain was important. And the more he thought about it, the more resolved he became. "I know what I must do, Arther. Tell the others that I'm leaving tomorrow."

"Wait a moment," Arther called as Chriscer walked away. "Where are you going?"

Chriscer glanced at him over the back of his shoulder. "To the mountain. I leave at dawn."

* * *

(A/N: Well, here it is, the first chapter! And finally, I am back and hopefully better at writing. I'll try to post chapters every Sunday. And also, feel free to give me any tips or ideas; I'd actually really appreciate it!)


	2. Chapter 2

The visions had grown stronger. Ever since Chriscer had made up his mind to leave to the mountain, the visions had come more frequently and would last for minutes, unlike the usual seconds. The only tolerable consolation was that he had learned to use them to his advantage and occasionally watch the rat's progress to the mountain. The headaches that the visions brought on raged in his head, along with his thunderous thoughts, continuously reminding him of how every minute that passed 'till dawn, the rat got dangerously near to the shore of the mountain.

He silently sauntered over to his cupboard, where a few maps lay. After taking them out, he placed them on his table and looked over them, determining the best route. His village lay at the foot of a cluster of mountains and foothills far north of the mountain, near a wide expanse of forestland. The only plausible path would be to go south and slightly west, across a long ditch that stretched across nearly half of Mossflower, through woodlands, deserts, and to the ocean shore where the great mountain was. He estimated that it would take slightly less than a season, if he was fortunate. Rage and despair filled him suddenly, and his eyesight became cloudy with red. There was no possible way to beat the rat to the mountain; the distance was much too far. He pounded a frustrated fist on the table, knocking down his cup of Raspberry Cordial. The fizzy substance spread along the wooden table, covering the maps with its red liquid. Chriscer growled and grabbed a towel. As he dried the table and the maps, he thought about the mountain and the rat. Chriscer wondered why he felt so protective over the mountain, and why the visions continuously came to him. There was no conclusion he could come to, other than that he was no ordinary badger. Though the answer did not satisfy him, he pushed back the thought and continued cleaning. When he was done, he brainstormed some more and studied the maps. Mossflower was an incredibly new land, and so there were only a few finished maps, which had taken him several moons to obtain. After several hours of hopeless reflection, he went to bed and tried to catch a few hours of sleep before dawn, when he had to leave for the mountain.

Finally, the dawn came right as the last threads of Chriscer's patience wore thin. He had slept very poorly, but he was still eager to begin his journey. Hurriedly grabbing his haversack, he rushed out the door and nearly tripped over Mossfur, an older, almost fatherly badger who often visited with Chriscer. He was called Mossfur because he was born with fur that was similarly textured like moss. Though Chriscer was a tall badger, one of the tallest in the village, he was still several inches short of Mossfur.

"Now then, where are you hurrying off to, Chriscer?" Mossfur asked, ducking his head to enter Chriscer's home.

Chriscer sighed. He knew Mossfur would keep pushing him until he answered correctly, so he simply said, "I'm going to the mountain."

Mossfur arched an eyebrow. "The mountain you keep seeing in your dreams?"

"Yes," He replied, giving Mossfur a swift but detailed account of his latest visions and of the rat.

"That is indeed interesting. Does anyone else in the village know?"

"Only you and Arther."

"And you're going dressed like that? And only carrying one small haversack, and no weapon?"

"Is that a problem?" Chriscer asked, somewhat irritated.

"Yes!" Mossfur breathed, dragging the word into a disappointed sigh. "You of all badgers should know how to properly dress and protect yourself when travelling."

"And why me, of all badgers?" Chriscer inquired, getting more and more irritated by the minute.

"Because of whom your father was!" Mossfur blurted, taking a deep breath to continue. "He was a traveler. Don't you remember anything about him?"

Chriscer sat down on a chair next the table. "No, I don't. As I recall, he died when I was only a season old, and my mother joined him shortly after. How did you know he was a wanderer?"

"I crossed paths with him several times before you were born. He even saved my life once, if I can remember correctly." Mossfur sat down next to him and was silent for a minute. "Anything else?" He prompted gently.

"Only that one of the village Elders, Wildleaf, found me and basically raised me before moving away."

Mossfur stood and poured himself a drink of Raspberry Cordial. "You remember the story the Elders used to tell you and the others?"

"Which one?" The village Elders, or the oldest members and most respected members of the village, often told stories to the babes and young animals. Chriscer barely remembered any of them, and couldn't see how any of them pertained to his parents or the mountain.

Mossfur clucked his tongue in a disapproving manner. "Which one do you suppose has to do with our wonderful village's history and of your father's?" He continued when Chriscer shook his head. "The one about the disaster that happened many seasons ago, when you were only a babe, barely two seasons old. A gang of vermin, nearly three dozen in total, attacked this place, burning and pillaging. It took a score of our strongest badgers to fight them off, and several seasons to rebuild. They were said to be led by the biggest, most fierce rat in the history of Mossflower."

"Which isn't very long," Chriscer muttered. Mossfur didn't look very pleased at the interruption.

He fixed Chriscer with a pointed look before continuing, "They were heard to be from the Northlands—a cold, desolate place far to the north— and the gang was tougher and fiercer than any others. The rat that led them goes by the name of Murk Swift-Kill and his followers are known as the True-Kill."

"What do they have to do with the mountain?"

Mossfur chose to ignore the question, instead further explaining his story. "Several seasons ago, I came across two ferrets –quite unsavory types—who had heard that Murk and his gang were on the move to a mysterious mountain far to the west. Although that _was_ a long time ago, and there are plenty of mountains in the west, so maybe it was simply a coincidence."

Chriscer growled. "How could it be? It must be him. This just makes my quest more urgent. We've wasted enough time, I must go."

Mossfur held up a paw. "Slow down, Chriscer. But I agree; we've procrastinated and wasted time enough. Still, you really must plan better than this."

"I've stayed up all night planning! I have the route memorized, and I have everything packed!" The more frustrated he became, the more a soft pink color tinged his eyes. Mossfur tried to calm him down in his matter-of-fact way.

"You will go soon enough. But first, show me the path you have chosen to travel. Then we will discuss leaving, and the appropriate dressing and weapons you are to have."

After conversing at length on the path and items Chriscer was to bring, it was decided that Chriscer would leave early afternoon. Soon after Mossfur left, saying a solemn farewell to him, Chriscer pondered what had happened and his decisions. The news about Murk deeply troubled him, though he wasn't quite sure why. It was a very slight possibility that it actually was Murk who was heading to the mountain, and Chriscer wasn't even sure why he cared. What did it matter that some rat and his horde were going to take over a mountain that was a season away? _Because,_ a voice in his head said, _the position. If that rat wished to successfully dominate Mossflower, he could easily do it from the mountain. It lies west on the shore, and is stronger than any fortress ever built. And from there, he could spread his horde across Mossflower and stay in complete power. Vermin like him enjoy causing suffering and death. It does not matter if he is the rat you see in your visions; you must defeat him before he reaches the mountain. _The voice sounded nothing like Chriscer's, it was stern, deeper and yet filled with kindness and understanding. The voice of a battle-hardened warrior. 'I must be going insane,' Chriscer thought. 'First seeing visions ever since I was little, now hearing a voice in my head?' He rubbed his eyes with the back of his paw, trying to rid himself of the tiredness that surely was the cause of the voice.

_You are not crazy, _the voice assured him. _You are the link between the past and the future, the beginning of millennia of defenders against evil. You are what is, and will always be._

'Who are you?' Chriscer thought hesitantly, not knowing whether to fear the answer or not.

_I am that is. _An image flashed in Chriscer's brain, one of a brilliantly crafted sword in the midst of darkness. It was a light in the midst of darkness, defending all good creatures from evil.

Though it wasn't much of an answer, Chriscer felt strangely satisfied. The sword looked familiar, though Chriscer couldn't quite place where. "It doesn't matter," He told himself aloud, swinging his haversack over his broad shoulder and buckling his sword and belt onto his waist, over his simple tunic.

He brushed all thoughts of the voice and vision away from his mind, squared his shoulders and cleared his head as he strode through his door. Many creatures were out, the parents watching as the young ones played around with one another, others pranking the village Elders, and still yet others accomplishing chores. It was a familiar sight, and yet seemed so foreign to Chriscer. The majority of the population was badgers, but there were quite a few hares, like Arther, and a few mice and otters. Regardless of the species, everybeast got along and helped each other with everything. Village life was a nice sort of life, yet Chriscer had always taken it for granted, far too fixated on his visions to care much. Now he regretted that.

Once again having to push away the thoughts and observations, he strode swiftly through the village and eventually came to the small hills that surrounded the village. Looking back, he studied the village one last time: The small but sturdy fence built around it, the wooden huts that, in some cases like his, were partially combined with massive oak trees, the little gurgling creek that ran through the village, and the noon sun shining brightly through the mountains. When he finished committing the scene to memory, he pushed onward, following the path. He ate a little as he walked, trying to conserve the food but still eat enough. As he turned a corner, now fully entering the forest, he heard the sound of a twig snap. Attempting to act normal, he casually set the haversack down and drew his sword. He felt a pair of eyes on him as he did so, which led him to the conclusion: He was being watched and followed.

* * *

A/N: Alright, second chapter done! Also, something went wrong when I tried to post it the first time, but I got it figured out. Thanks for reading!


	3. Chapter 3

"Ahoy, Cap'n!" Ragtail, the rat who Murk had recently appointed as lookout, called out. "Mossf'ower shore dead 'head."

Murk Swift-Kill, captain and ferocious leader of the True-Kill, emerged from his cabin at the front of the ship. "How far away is der mountain?"

"If the weather keeps good, we'll reach the shore by noontime," Ragtail replied.

Murk smiled-a truly terrifying sight. "Well done, Ragtail. Alert me when we're near."

And with that, he went back to his cabin. He sat down on a rusty chair and thought. Once at the mountain, he would claim it for his own and set up his fortress there. _Swift-Kill Mountain, _he mused to himself. _Aye, that's a name fit fer a fine cap'n like meself. Nay, when I get that mountain, I'll be a king!_

He and his loyal band of True-Kill all came from a series of islands clustered close together, seasons away from Mossflower. Starting out as lowly lookout, he grew in the ranks, swiftly becoming renowned for his fierceness and skill with weapons, especially the sword. He was often scorned as a lookout, since he appeared scrawny and pathetic to the other, older rats. As he grew older and stronger, he proved to be the best of the best, and eventually over-threw the captain of his ship, taking the position until he owned his own horde and fleet of ships. Many seasons ago on his island, Truamont, when he studied the maps of Mossflower and the surrounding countries, he saw a large mountain standing solitary on the Western Shore. It would make an excellent base. He could control his own ocean territory using his fleet of ships, which he would call for once he reached the mountain, and by land he could recruit and slowly dominate Mossflower. No soft woodland creature would dare to stop him!

Murk Swift-Kill was on a hunt for conquest and domination.

Murk Swift-Kill was coming to the mountain.

* * *

The shrubbery shook as Chriscer called out, "Any decent beast would walk on the path. Why don't you come out, friends?"

More plants parted as two familiar faces emerged.

"I say, how'd you know it was us?" Arther asked as he and Mossfur moved to face Chriscer on the path. They each carried a haversack on their backs, and Mossfur had the addition of a bow and a quiver filled with sharp, newly crafted arrows.

"I wasn't completely certain," Chriscer replied. "I must say, I am very disappointed in you. Both of you should've stayed back at the village."

"No, it'd be far too boring without you," Arther replied. "Besides, I can't just let my best pal go on a mission without me. And Mossfur insisted on coming."

"We wouldn't dare let you go on a quest such as this all by yourself," Mossfur added. "We are your friends."

"It's far too dangerous for you to come. I can take care of myself."

"Do you assume that I have never been on a quest in my time?" Mossfur asked with a slight grin. "I may be old, but I have been through adventures such as this many times."

"I understand that, Mossfur, but that's just it. I fear you are too old and this adventure would be too harsh on you," Chriscer countered, trying to keep his frustration in check.

"I can handle it," Mossfur promised. "And besides, I am not too old for this. I am not even close to being considered an Elder."

Chriscer turned to Arther. "And what about you, Arther? You have no experience with anything of this sort."

Arther snorted. "Neither do you, pal. Besides, I'm a hare, and a jolly fast one. It's like we hares were made for this sort of things."

Chriscer soon realized that there would be no reasoning with his faithful friends. He decided to try one more tactic, even though he knew there wasn't much of a chance of him convincing them to turn back. He appreciated their gestures of loyalty, but he had no wish to endanger the lives of his two friends on a possibly perilous quest.

"The visions are mine, neither of you have received any. Therefore the quest should be taken up by me alone. I also do things best alone."

"Well, you're going to have to work best with us. We should get going now. C'mon, pal."

Mossfur evidently agreed with Arther, and the matter seemed to be settled. Chriscer reluctantly shouldered his bag as Mossfur did the same. Arther, though, seemed to have a bit more trouble carrying his. The bag was bulging and obviously weighed far more than what it should've.

"What's in your bag?" Chriscer asked, attempting a straight face.

"Food and drink, old pal. Can't live without it, ya know."

"That is far too much, Arther. It'll slow you down."

Arther ignored him, plodding ahead, striving to go quickly but failing because of the enormous amount of food he was carrying. Both Chriscer and Mossfur suppressed their smiles at the comical sight. Together, the three friends followed the path through the forest, journeying to the mountain of Chriscer's dreams.

After several hours of journeying through the forest, they heard a guttural cry and the sound of flapping wings.

"Kraaak!" A bird landed in a branch next to Chriscer. "You in my territory. What you want?"

Chriscer studied the fierce bird. It was a massive hawk, with brilliant plumage and razor-sharp talons. It blinked warily and ruffled its wings until the trio carefully backed a few pawsteps away from it.

Chriscer held his hands up. "My name is Chriscer, and these are my companions, Arther and Mossfur. We are peaceful travelers and are just passing through."

"What's your name?" Arther asked, probably attempting to calm the angry bird.

"Eulalia, kraaaw, this bird's name is Eulalia!"

"I say," Arther said, "That's a jolly strange name."

The bird glared at the hare. "Says the longears whose name is Arther."

"Hey! Arther is a jolly fine name for a sophisticated hare like meself."

Chriscer tried to cover his laughter with a cough, but Arther knew what he was doing and ignored him, instead focusing on the agitated bird.

"I don't like longears," The bird decided. "You like the vermin?"

"No, we're not," Chriscer reasoned. "We're friends."

"Friends? Eulalia has no friends, kraaaaak!"

Mossfur stepped in. He had been so quiet, standing behind Chriscer and Arther, silently assessing the situation that Chriscer had almost forgotten about him. "It's all right. Eulalia, you seem like a very wise bird. Have you seen any rats pass by here or the ocean recently?"

"Eulalia has seen many things. Many, many evil rats pass by here and big water," Eulalia replied.

"Have you ever met a rat by the name of Murk Swift-Kill?" Chriscer asked.

The bird flapped its wings in anger and horror. "Murk? Kraaaw! Eulalia despises big rat! He come here long time ago and hunt many birds."

"Yes," Chriscer agreed. "He also attacked our village many seasons ago."

Eulalia hopped on one foot. "Kraaaw! Rat is evil. Friends now, Chriscer and Mossfur!"

"What about me?" Arther asked, his ears twitching in annoyance.

"This bird still doesn't trust longears."

Arther didn't bother correcting him, instead pulling Chriscer aside and telling Mossfur to talk with Eulalia.

"This bird is jolly confusing," Arther said. "One minute he's ready to attack us, then the next he's calling us friends. Plus there's the questionable intelligence of birds like him, wot."

"I know," Chriscer replied. "But let him be. I believe he's smarter than he lets on. And he could be helpful if we just let him."

"Alright, pal, whatever you say, wot."

As they finished their quiet discussion, Eulalia turned to them and ignored Mossfur. "Wot you saying?"

"It doesn't jolly well matter," Arther replied, retreating back a step while Eulalia glared at him.

Chriscer grew tired of their constant bickering, deciding to distract them by explaining their quest. "Listen Eulalia, Mossfur, Arther and I are questing to a mountain by the western shore. Murk Swift-Kill and his followers are likely to be there."

Eulalia interrupted. "Why you going to big rock in the west?"

Patiently, Chriscer explained his dreams and visions. Eulalia listened quietly, hardly blinking or moving. As he told the story, Chriscer realized that Mossfur was correct; though the bird acted strange and wild, he was very intelligent and understanding. His golden eyes held so much, intelligence and strength that Chriscer found himself trusting the bird, simply out of instinct. The bird was clearly a warrior, and willing to help.

"Kraaaw!" When Chriscer had finished, the bird set his beak decisively. "This bird go with you! Quest to big rock, fight evil Murk!"

Arther held up his paws. "Whoa, steady on. We don't need another addition t'the group. And besides, wot would you be able to do?"

"No worry, longears. This bird can scout land, search for food in big water, and help fight. Wot can longears do, eh?"

For once Arther was at a loss of words.

Chriscer realized how much time they had been wasting. "We must get going; we've stopped here far too long. Eulalia, if you really wish to, you may come. Just know it is likely to be dangerous and difficult. Whether you decide to go with us or not, we must get going."

Without a word the hawk joined them as they turned to the path. During their journey through the forest, which took them many days, he often flew ahead, scouting the best routes then looping back to them to show the best routes through the winding paths and dimly lit forest. They would've gotten lost several times without the help of their bird friend, and made much better time through the forest. About halfway through the forest they were forced to cross a ditch, as there was no way to avoid it. While Eulalia flew across and waited for them, Chriscer and Arther jumped over, with Mossfur shortly behind them, breathing rather heavily. At night, they would camp, without a fire, and lay underneath the trees. Chriscer found a sort of freedom sleeping in this way, unlike the way he would feel at the village. It was probably from his wandering father. One night, thinking back to his conversation with Mossfur the day he had left the village, Chriscer remembered a detail he had forgotten.

He leaned towards Mossfur, who was sitting propped against a tree and asked, "Mossfur, remember our conversation back at the village? Why does the story you told me about Murk have to do with my father?"

"Ah," Mossfur said. "I must've forgotten to say. Once, when I first met him, before you were born of course, we stayed together for a few days. And that's when we were attacked by a gang of wondering foxes. Sly beasts, they are. Anyways, they ambushed us, and we desperately retaliated. Your father, he was quite the warrior. He protected us both, taking out several of the foxes. The rest turned tail and fled. But before they left, one of them gave us a message."

He paused for a moment, as if trying to recall.

"Kraaaak! Wot fox say?" Eulalia asked, ruffling his wings impatiently.

Mossfur shot him a light glare before continuing. "The fox told us 'Watch out, and always sleep with one eye open. You can be sure that our master will hear about this.' I asked him, 'What is your master's name?' To which the fox replied, 'You'll hear it soon, don't you worry. He's still preparing to make himself known.'"

"What happened after that?" Chriscer asked.

"Nothing. The fox fled, and your father and I soon parted ways. Later, a mysterious rat appeared and attacked small villages and homes throughout Mossflower, and then disappeared. His name was indeed heard across the land, and I'm sure you can guess what it is," He added, glancing at Chriscer, who did indeed have a suspicion, "Murk Swift-Kill, leader of the True-Kill. He somehow found our village, and attacked. Your father is not directly involved with the attack, but I've always wondered if the foxes somehow tracked me down to the village."

The companions looked at each other. Arther, surprisingly, had stayed silent, and appeared to be in deep thought for the rest of the night. Troubled by the news, Chriscer had a difficult time falling asleep, but eventually he managed to, when the moon was high in the clouded sky. In the morning he and his companions ate very little food, and set off once again.

After two long, exhausting days of journey, they emerged from the forest, breathing in the fresh air and looking down on the sand dunes they would have to traverse through. Far to the south Chriscer saw a range of mountains, similar to the ones where his village lay, protruding from the ground. But what really caught his gaze was the massive mountain looming next to the mountains, standing tall and noble, with smoke emitting from the top.

All they would have to do was walk across the sand dunes along the ocean until they reached the mountain. Perhaps Chriscer misestimated how long it would take them to journey there. They were already half-way. Once they got there, Chriscer's dreams and visions would be fulfilled. _But why,_ he asked himself, _why do I wish to be there so badly? _Something in the back of his head told him that he would know once he got there.

"Did you see that? We're halfway there!" Chriscer and his companions smiled and cheered.

* * *

A/N: Thanks for reading! I know it's been a while since I last posted, I've been really busy. Please review and tell me what you think!


	4. Chapter 4

A small lizard lurked nearby as four travelers made their way along the ever-shifting sand dunes. Its forked tongue hissed in and out of its mouth as it breathed heavily from the exhaustion and strain of moving against the sand and wind.

"I told you, Chriscer," The hare complained, "We should've skipped over these horrid sand dunes and instead go along the forest's edge."

The lizard held its breath, waiting to hear Chriscer's, who seemed to be one of the two badgers in the group, reply. "Like I've previously told you, Arther, this is the quickest way to the mountain. If we stayed near the forest, it would've taken longer, while the dunes are the direct way to the mountain, unpleasant as it is."

The hare continued complaining and muttering incoherently. The two badgers ignored him, and the bird that was flying up above them glared down at him. For a moment the lizard debated staying and listening, but after a few minutes of silence realized that there was no more important information to be gathered. Silently, he crawled down the sand dunes, halting immediately whenever too much sand slid down with him, or if he kicked up too much sand, for fear that the four creatures would spot him. As a tiny, sand-colored lizard, successful survival was difficult. Especially when under the control of a violent and monstrous lizard like Greenfleck. Many lizards and toads lived in the desert by the ocean, and the hidden swamp next to it. In the desert, Greenfleck was the chief of all the lizards, but in the swamp Brownspot the Toad was boss. The two creatures had been fighting for each other's territory for a whole season, and neither side was gaining anything.

It was the lizard's designated job to report travelers to Greenfleck, since they could have something of value to him. And the badgers, hare, and bird were journeying to the mountain, where a rat had recently set up camp around. Clicking gleefully, the lizard thought about what would happen if they tried to get near the rat. Nothing good, that was for certain. But they wouldn't have the chance to meet the rat. Greenfleck would make sure of that.

* * *

"Seriously, though," Arther grumbled, "I can think of dozens of pleasanter paths than this one, wot. And speaking of pleasant, we haven't eaten in so long!"

Chriscer ignored him, instead climbing to the top of the dune and looking down on the restless ocean, then turning to the silhouette of the mountain. They appeared to be only slightly closer to the mountain, even though they had been journeying through the sands for a full day. The sky was darkening with streaks of orange and pale pink. The abundance of sand must've disorientated Chriscer's vision, making the mountain appear closer than it truly was. Arther and Mossfur scaled the dune and sat beside him, and Eulalia landed next to him on the other side.

"We should make camp here for tonight," Chriscer decided, glancing at his companions as two of the three nodded. "Do you disagree, Mossfur?"

"I agree that we should break camp for the night," Mossfur replied. "But not here. We are in the open, and in unknown territory. I have heard tales of sand lizards and such being out here, and paired with the possibility that Murk may have sent scouts out here, I think it would be unwise to sleep in an area so open. Perhaps there is a cave here that we could stay in."

Eulalia flapped his wings in agreement. "Kraaaw, Mossfur badger's reasoning is good. This bird will go scout out cave for friends."

"I can do that as well," Arther protested. "A hare can go as fast and far as any bird."

The only response Arther got was the flapping noise of Eulalia as he launched into the air. Chriscer considered asking Arther why he felt so competitive towards their bird friend, but reminded himself that there were more important things to do.

"Well, while he's doing that, I can start preparing for food, wot." Rubbing his paws together and chuckling gleefully, Arther set his still too heavy haversack down and opened it, taking out random foods and cooking items.

Mossfur stopped him and ordered him to put the contents back in the bag. As Arther did that, he explained why. "It would make far too much noise; we don't want anybeast to know that we're here. And besides, most of the food you brought, Arther, must be cooked or heated up. Tell me, do you see any forms of kindling or sticks around here? And also, you've eaten more than any of us during this journey. Didn't you have a large snack only an hour ago?"

Arther said nothing in reply, but scooted farther away from the others and murmured angrily to himself. Chriscer knew his friend well enough to know that Arther wouldn't give up on the prospect of food, and would soon find a way to rebel and devour as much food as possible. Hares were quite gluttonous when it came to eating, but were still courageous creatures. Chriscer figured it was only a matter of time before he heard the sounds of Arther hastily eating.

"Where's Eulalia?" Mossfur asked after several minutes.

"Maybe he jolly well deserted us," Arther suggested, looking equal parts angry and hopeful.

"And why would he do that?" Chriscer asked. "He's probably still searching."

Arther twitched his ears. The oncoming darkness was beginning to make it difficult to see. "If you say so, old chap."

The sound of whooshing air and flapping wings distracted them from their conversation. Chriscer looked up and saw Eulalia diving towards them. He stopped last second and spread his wings, and landed safely and smoothly beside Chriscer.

"Well?" Chriscer asked as Eulalia silently preened himself. "Did you find something?"

"Kraaaw! Big beast impatient, eh?" He continued hurriedly as Chriscer mentally reminded himself to control his patience and irritation. "Small cave far, far away. Don't know if slow landcrawlers can make it before storm arrives."

Glancing up, Chriscer realized that Eulalia was right; that a storm was indeed coming. The dark clouds had blended in with the sky, and were swiftly gathering above them, and the wind was pushing them in the direction of the companions.

"We'll have to try," Chriscer decided. "If a storm is coming, the need to take shelter is even more urgent. Eulalia, show us the way."

They stumbled through the sand dunes, often glancing up at the sky and at their surroundings. There was no sign of any other creature besides them, which Chriscer decided was a good thing. As the wind pushed against them, the sand swirled and rose, making it much harder for them to see or breathe at times. Eulalia was also struggling against the wind, which was much stronger in the sky. Soon the rain started, and the companions were becoming increasingly miserable trying to fight against the elements. And even worse to Chriscer was the fact that they were heading in almost the opposite direction of the mountain. Nevertheless, they pushed on, and after what seemed like hours to Chriscer they found the cave. It was small, and would just barely be able to fit the four of them with a little space in between, but it seemed deep enough to provide shelter against the storm. They entered and huddled together, and eventually all fell into restless slumber.

Chriscer dreamed of Murk, who had set up camp a little ways from the mountain. He snarled commands and threats, and plotted in his great tent with his three captains while the rest of the horde feasted and sharpened their weapons. Then Chriscer's dream changed, and he found himself wandering the halls of a red sandstone Abbey, and stopping at a magnificent tapestry pinned to the wall. The likeness of the same mouse he had repeatedly seen was on the tapestry, with his glorious battle armor and leaning against the wonderful sword. Depicted on it were many vermin of all kinds, fleeing in horror from the mouse. Chriscer felt safe and at peace there, even in his dream, and once the wonderful vision had ended he fell into a long, dreamless sleep, unware of the many, watchful eyes lurking by the edge of the cave.

A/N: So, school's starting up soon and I'm going to be pretty busy with that, plus I travel and have a lot of health issues, so I'm going to just post two to three times a month (Though I kind of already do that). Anyways, thanks for reading, and if you want, please review and tell me what you think!


	5. Chapter 5

Hem the ottermaid was walking along the Western shore, drinking in the glorious sights that the landscape and ocean had to offer. The crystal clear waves broke and crashed against the beach, the tiny crabs scuttled across the sand, and the beautiful morning sky all took Hem's breath away. Her holt, Holt Greenfin, was located in between the River Moss and the Western ocean. The otters of Holt Greenfin had lived there for many seasons and were all very fond of their home. They watched the area around them and protected each other from any vermin who tried to raid or destroy their holt.

Twirling gracefully and lifting herself onto the tall, sturdy stick she carried, Hem danced about as the lightly crashing waves sprayed water onto her. Giggling and talking to herself and the ocean as if to a friend, she carried on joyfully. It was a good day to be alive for Holt Greenfin.

* * *

"Do yew hear that?" Ragtail the lookout asked his friend, Crinklechin the ferret. They had been set with the task of scouting the area while the others set up camp by the mountain. "Sounds like somebeast's havin' a good ole time."

Crinklechin looked in the distance and squinted her eyes. "Is that an otter singin'?"

"Sounds like it. And how rude of 'em to have fun without us."

"We should go over to her and inerrduce ourselves." Crinklechin and Ragtail smiled cruelly as they made their way to Hem the ottermaid.

Hem was making her way in the direction of the massive mountain in the distance when she spotted two figures far away. She couldn't recognize them, but she assumed it was Fisheye and Waterspear, two otters from Holt Greenfin that had gone exploring by the River Moss. They had been due to return to the holt any day, and even though the direction the figures were coming in was almost opposite of the way Fisheye and Waterspear had left, Hem assumed that it was them.

Waving to them, Hem called, "Ahoy mates, how was your journey?"

Snickering quietly, Ragtail asked Crinklechin, "Does she think we're some sortta otters?"

"Seems like it, mate. What should we do?"

"I think bringin' 'er to Murk would be good."

As the figures approached closer, Hem realized that they were not her friends. She took a hesitant step backwards, and realized that they probably intended to raid the holt or attack her. Hem had heard rumors of a mysterious rat and his horde setting up camp by the mountain. The rat and ferret were probably one of them. Running backwards, she stumbled through the sand in the direction of the holt. She knew that she couldn't go straight back there, since the vermin could trace her back there. Looking back, she saw that they were also running and slowly catching up on her. Hem put on an extra burst of speed and ran zig-zag through the dunes. Eventually she came to the River Moss, a little ways past her holt, with the rat and ferret out of sight. She stooped down and caught her breath by the river edge, gasping and looking wildly around. There was a noise from above her, like a twig snapping. She looked up and saw a giant owl sitting in the tree branch above her.

"W-Wot do you want?" She asked the owl, still trying to catch her breath.

"Nothing, my dear otter," Replied the owl. "I simply wish to warn you. You are a part of the holt known as Holt Greenfin, correct?" He waited for her to nod her head before continuing. "Then you should know where your vermin friends have gone off to."

"They ain't my friends," Hem interrupted. "I think they were a part of the new rat feller that arrived here earlier. They started chasin' me and I figured that they were trying to find Holt Greenfin or somethin', so I ran to here."

The owl blinked. "I am aware of that. Anyways, miss, I thought you should know that they have almost found your holt. I suggest that you hurry off to there before they bring the rest of their disgusting horde to attack."

Hem took off running, not bothering to reply. She put on a massive burst of speed to make it through the purposefully confusing maze of sand, bushes, and various trees. The otter holt was buried deep in woodland, only a half hour's walk away from the ocean, and near the River Moss. It was hidden well enough that you really had to know where you were going to see it. But the vermin must've seen some otter tracks leading to it that they forgot to cover up. As she skirted around a particularly close group of trees, she saw that her theory was correct. Some light otter tracks could be made out leading in the direction of the holt. She also spotted other tracks by it, clearly following the otter's. Hem didn't know much about tracking, but she guessed that it was the rat and ferret. It definitely wasn't an otter's.

"I tole yew, Crinklechin," A gruff, far-away voice argued. "They just ain't there."

"Then where d'yew think they is?" Another high voice asked.

"I dunno. Do I have to do everything 'round 'ere?" A slight shriek followed the statement, indicating to Hem that the two vermin were probably fighting.

Hem crept forward, hiding and ducking between bushes. She was getting near the two vermin when a voice whispered to her, "Shhhhh, go more quietly." Hem almost yelped aloud but managed to catch herself in time.

"Who are you?" Squinting her eyes and looking around, Hem just barely was able to catch sight of a strangely dressed mouse standing in front of her by a tree. The mouse wore a green with brown striped tunic, a belt around her middle with a tiny dagger attached, and a worried but sarcastic gleam in her eyes.

"My name's Bryn. Are you an otter from Holt Greenfin?" Hem nodded and Bryn continued, "I've been following those two vermin for some time. They're absolute idiots. They obviously don't know anything about tracking or staying quiet." A shout that came from the vermin's direction made Bryn and Hem chuckle quietly.

"My holt's in danger, though. We have to stop them before they alert the horde to where we are. And by the way, my name is Hem."

Bryn nodded. "All right. What do we do, friend?"

Though she was typically a very cautious otter, Hem could tell that Bryn was eager to help and trustworthy. "My holt is just beyond the vermin. Mebbe we could distract them enough that they forget about tracking my home. Can you fight at all?"

Bryn picked up her dagger. "I hate it, but yes, I can. Would it help if I got my siblings to come along?"

"You have siblings?" Hem asked. "How many and where are they?"

"Two others. One of them is an excellent tracker. They're not too far away, maybe a half hour's walk away but if we go fast enough, we can get there quicker."

Hem shook her head. "No, that's too long. We need to go now. And are you certain you want to do this, mate? I won't judge."

Bryn laughed. "I've been fending myself and my siblings for seasons. It's fine."

"We just met though," Hem said. "Why do y' want t'help me?"

"'Cause," Bryn replied. "You're my friend now. Besides, I've heard about your home and it seems very wonderful. I would hate for it to get destroyed or have the otters enslaved or whatever."

"Right then, we should get going." The mouse and otter walked swiftly through the trees, careful to not make any noise as the vermin came closer and closer to Hem's precious home.

The morning sun shined brightly as the birds nearby startled and flew off. Loud shouting could be heard from a cluster of dozens of tents by the shore. Everybeast avoided their leader as much as possible, trying not to be subject to his wrath.

"Tunnelin' ain't that hard," Murk Swift-Kill screamed at his second-in-command, Darrin. "Why, if I was doin' it, I'd have been done days ago. Idiots!"

Darrin shrank back from his master's ferocity. "Sorry, Cap'n, but it ain't as easy as it looks. The mountain's first layer is solid, though we estimate that there's an inner layer wit' tunnels. We just gotta dig deep enough to find it."

"Well then get to it!"

"Cap'n!" Leafbrush the stoat ran up to Murk and waited breathlessly for him to nod before continuing. "Ragtail has just sent word that they've found an otter holt. He's with Crinklechin, waiting for your command. He says that he's also captured one of the otters, a mousemaiden too."

Murk grinned evilly in response. "Send 'em here. Otters are useful creatures. Tell Ragtail to flush 'em outta their holt and take 'em all here. And get Crinklechin to bring the otter and mouse here."

* * *

A/N: Well, here's the fifth chapter! Big thanks to everyone who's reviewed; I really appreciate it. Thanks for reading!


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